A Preview of What Lies Ahead
by Luna Corrona
Summary: This is the first of two prologues. I am testing the water to see if the characterizations are good. Luna gets lost in Phantom-time..this is NOT another woman fic. EC, please review. JUST A PROLOGUEPREVIEW!
1. Default Chapter

"Erik, what if I love you?" That stopped him dead. I always knew how to shock him.

"What," he hissed, quieter than a breath. It sent a chill through me...but I wasn't sure if it was of pleasure or of fear. Probably the excitement of both, and then he grew dangerous, his voice very soft and his light, ever so menacing gait advancing on me.

"What a foolish girl you are, to think that you could win! But you won't! I will not allow you to tempt me. That time of my life is over!" He grew ever closer. I, being the "foolish girl" that I was, wisely, defiantly said, "I am NOT a child, monsieur. I know all about this world and the things that transpire within it!" This was a speech delivered with pride, and a slight lift of my chin. I looked at him with a hand on my hip, and he was suddenly right in front of me.

"Oh?" he said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Not a child? Wise to the ways of the world, are you my dear? Of course, my little wise one!" What would have otherwise been an endearment grew cold with his derivative sneer, but I stood fast.

And then he took off the mask.

And the weirdest thing happened. The moment he took off that mask, I saw him. No, I really saw HIM! And what I saw... well it held me. With the mask off, he still held every bit of the intensity that he had before, but now...Well it didn't matter, because he wasn't getting the reaction from me that he'd hoped for, and he wasn't going to! Men are prideful, and what Erik wanted was fear, rejection, disgust, anything but the love with which I was now calmly regarding him. Later, I found that this was because he truly was afraid, but he masked this well. Forgive the pun.

In any event, he spent the next several moments experimenting, trying to get a reaction out of me. He lightly brushed his fingers across my cheek, and I stood firm. NO reaction. He then took my hand in his and raised it to touch the naked, deformed part of his face, but I didn't yank it away as he'd obviously been expecting. Instead, I cupped it there, and looked into his mismatched eyes.

"Erik, I'm not afraid of you."

"Foolish girl," he whispered brokenly, and I covered his mouth with my fingers.

"Hush," I said, simply. "You don't sicken me Erik, or disgust me or even invoke fear in my heart. You invoke something else." I blushed in spite of the situation, and I was almost certain that he did too. "I will admit that I am afraid right now, but only because of the intensity that I feel for you. You are NOT a monster, and you're not evil, and I love you!"

He finally knew that I wasn't lying, and upon coming to this realization, he just lost it. The façade came down, the mask was lowered and the denouement was ready to ride it self out. This powerful man, who held dominion over anyone whom he spoke (or sang) to was reduced to a weeping mass as soon as I wrapped my arms around him. I knew that it was a lost cause. I took his head in my hands and gently guided it to my shoulder. It was similar to comforting a child.

"Oh, Erik" I sighed. He finally put his arms around my waist, but almost hesitantly, as if he was still afraid to touch me with his body. When I held him closer, he realized that I wanted him to touch me, and a torrent of tears that had been denied him since birth was released. I led him over to the bed and sat with him still in my arms, gently rocking him and murmuring words that I've no inkling of now. It then occurred to me that I was probably the only one to have seen Erik in this state, perhaps with the exception of Nadir. But then, even the Persian hadn't held a defenseless Erik like I was. He sighed.

"It can never work," he said as I still cradled his head.

"I'm not asking you to love me back," I told him with resignation. He sat up and took my hand.

"Christine, that's not the reason. You know this, I know this. Let it go unspoken, for now. Please?" I nodded, and I felt one of the biggest sighs coming out...

How odd it is, to be recalling it and writing on paper, in a book for the child that I have never met, and won't until we both rest with our Creator. But I hope you take some comfort from my words, beautiful child. Luna, if indeed that is your name, learn from me. Love is your gift. God gave you a loving heart, if you are anything like the rest of the Corronas. Our blood flows in your veins, and in the veins of your little one. You are the legacy. It is a great responsibility, but you are equal to the challenge. You will not let us down, this I know.

Erik would have loved you, Luna. He loved anything I love. I was content to have known him. Now you understand why this had to be chronicled, and why I'm so eager to be with him again. This is the kind of love that lasts over ages, over centuries. It doesn't die with death, but lives on. It was my time, and now it is yours. This time for me is over, but I'm going to a new place, where I will be welcomed with loving arms that are opened in greeting to me and only me, as you will one day. I hope it is long and far reaching in the future, dear.

Your life is precious, and our time is short. 85 years is no time compared to the time we will spend in the place that was meant for us. Remember that in your years. Live for God, live for your family, live for the man you love, but most importantly, Luna, remember to live for you. Live for you...


	2. Fight

A/N: This is not in any semblance of an order. I hope readers will review this chapter to tell me about the fight scene here between Christine and Erik. Just read it; it is taken out of context. Erik has been out of Paris for two years; reasoning isn't vital. Its purpose is to look at the characterization of Christine and Erik and gain feedback. For length reasons, I have split this fight into two chapters. Thanks!

Christine stopped her flight outside of her dressing room to try to calm herself, putting her hands to her face and taking deep, rhythmic breaths. She pushed the door open and stepped in, looking around the room as though it was her first time. In a way, she supposed, it was because of the way her senses were heightened, all in anticipation of him.

"Angel, sing to me," she breathed. Nothing happened, and she snaked her arms around herself in anticipation, slowly turning until she faced the mirror. "Hello?" She stood for a few moments, trying to calm her breathing. Christine was afraid he hadn't come after all, and that he was angry...

"Christine..." suddenly pierced the silence, quieter than a breath, more beautiful than a song. She closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her in sensuous waves, letting it have the effect on her that she'd been dreaming of. When she opened her eyes, Erik was standing before her in his classic uniform, wearing a crisp, white dress shirt, matching black trousers and suit jacket and black lined cape. His white porcelain mask hid the features of the left side of his face. On the part still revealed, however, were mixed expressions of fear, desperation, anger, and love. The result was a look of agony that made Christine ache to take him in her arms until he was reduced to no more than a sobbing wreck of tears and nerves; raw emotion that she could take in her arms and-

She blushed and tried to disengage herself from this train of thought before she got herself into trouble.

"Good afternoon, Erik. I see that you have returned to our humble opera house." The tone and words were light, but Christine's voice held a barley concealed hint of sarcasm that Erik's sensitively trained ears picked up right away.

"Ah, then you noticed my absence. I had hoped it would not be terribly conspicuous to you." Christine blinked at the waves of hostility she was encountering. Now that the proverbial mask had clamped over the visible part of his face, Erik and his words were nothing but cool inflexibility.

"Of course I noticed. I was wondering why you returned."

"And I wonder why you remained, Madame! Do you not have the business of a vicometess to attend to?"

"I wouldn't know anything about the business you speak of, Erik. I have remained here, at my home, for the past two years." It was Erik's turn to blink in a bemused fashion.

"Surely the Vicomte cannot have allowed this of his own accord. What did you do to convince him to let you stay?" Christine blanched at these words and wondered at Erik's accusatory tone. She recovered herself, though, and answered just as acidly,

"I didn't marry Raoul, that's how I accomplished it." Erik was silent, thankful that the mask was hiding his expression of shock and disbelief.

"I see. Did he tire of you?" Christine gasped. This conversation was taking a turn for the worse, and they both knew it.

"Not that I know of. But it's not fair to be married to someone who doesn't love you back."

"Oh, how well you have taught me that lesson, my dear!" Erik threw up his hands as he said this.

"Erik! I tried! I wanted to stay, or don't you remember that kiss? That was no meager acting on my part."

"Please, Christine; don't make me relive this. That is why I left-"

"Well, Erik, if you fled Paris to forget me, then I've spent every moment of the past two years trying to remember everything about you, because I was frightened that you weren't ever going to return, and I couldn't bear the thought of my life without you. I've spent the last two years loving the ghost of a man I knew I had no chance of ever being with again."

"The Vicomte would accept you again," Erik said, uneasily.

"I'M SPEAKING OF YOU, YOU DENSE MAN! WHAT WILL IT TAKE FOR YOU TO SEE THAT I LOVE YOU?!" At this, Christine burst into tears. Erik raised his eyebrows, having absolutely no idea how to respond to this outburst.


	3. Fight Two

A/N: This is a continuation of Chapter two. Please refer to the previous chapter for other Notes/Prima Donna. Haha, just kidding. Threw a curve to see if you were still awake! Anyway, enjoy.

As they faced each other, the room crackled electric with intensity. Christine, stubborn as ever, faced Erik with no intention of backing down from her stance, and the only thing betraying this strength was the trickle of tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks. Erik faced her, not looking outwardly swayed or sympathetic, and the mask seemed as cold and forbidding as ever.

"Love, Christine? Love? And what is it, pray tell me, that you know of love? Please, enlighten me. Of course, I must admit, if what you've shown me so far is what you call love, I don't think I'm strong enough a man to handle it!" Christine stood still, never wavering. She repeated simply,

"I love you, Erik." The man advanced on her menacingly until he stood right above her, and she could feel his breath on her face. Now, Erik was very quiet and calm, his words punctuated by his seductive, threatening intensity.

"But you see, Christine, I have no way of ascertaining the truth of your statement. If you indeed do love me, as you so vehemently have verbally expressed," Here, Erik paused to sneer before continuing on, "don't you think you might have done a better job at showing it? Christine, my dear, it took me these two long years to overcome the near fatal blow you dealt me! No," he said, placing one long, skeleton-like finger over her perfectly shaped lips, "you will let me finish this. I need to say it, or I may never be whole again. I loved you with an unnatural strength, that I cannot deny. I'm certain that the intensity of it must have frightened you, innocent creature that you are." Christine flushed crimson, but he held her fast. It was obvious to both of them that his words were a little too close to home.

"But I couldn't control it any more than I can control the need to compose, the need to build things with my hands, the need to breathe! I offered you everything I had, Christine, everything, but it wasn't enough for you. You didn't like the packaging, and you wanted to run away with your Vicomte in shining armor. Well, I might have had a hope of dealing with that, Christine, but damnit! WHY couldn't you have stayed gone?!" At this point, Christine was sobbing silently, but she didn't move. She thought that she detected a mad glint of something in his mismatched eyes, but Christine was horrified to see that Erik, too, was crying, because she didn't think that she could bear it. That she was the cause of those tears, that anguish, was even worse.

"How could I have stayed away from you, Erik? How when I-"

"If you that you love me again, Christine," Erik said in a dangerously soft tone, "I'm afraid that I can't return." He left then, and Christine crumpled to the floor in tears. She was so upset and absorbed in their argument that she didn't even think to realize that Erik had left through the door in her dressing room instead of the mirror...


End file.
